serial contraption of malice

PROJECT 04. AWAKE, SLIGHTLIMP

    I stared in shock and horror.

The candy...had they operated on me? Had they stolen me off the streets and operated on me in the day? No. No they couldn’t.

But the cashier that had given me my sandwich was acting weirdly. Could he have been one of them? Could he have somehow been part of this? If he was, how? Why? All he did was hand me a chicken sandwich. What could he have done? Did he put something in it?

My eyes widened and my knees buckled.

He put something in my sandwich.

I put my hands to my stomach and grimaced.

They put something in my sandwich.

This was completely new territory. They were hiding things in my food.

This was surprising. It was scary.

This wasn’t like leaving the present of the little candies on my nightstand. This was sneaking something into the things I eat. This was not the surprise of the sweet flavor of the candy. This was the surprise and dread of an enemy spy achieving his mission. Previously I had willingly ate the candy. This was not a choice on my part.

Narrowing my eyes, I stood up and smacked the little shiny treat off of the bike seat. It smacked on the ground and rolled to the edge of the grass, blades of green stopping it in its tracks. I smashed it with my foot and walked into the house.

My house is set up that when you walk through the front door to your left is the open entrance to the kitchen, in front of you is the living room, and to your right was a hallway leading back to the bedrooms.

My mom was sitting on the couch watching TV. She turned to me and smiled.

“Welcome home. How are your friends?”

“They’re fine,” I replied.

“Good.”

I looked around. “Where’s dad?”

“Oh he’s outside.”

That means he would have seen me come home. This could give me some answers. I ran back outside ignoring my mother’s questions.

He was sitting at his workbench sawing pieces of metal. The noise was deafining.

“Dad!” I yelled.

He continued sawing.

“DAAAAD!” I yelled again louder.

He looked up at me and stopped sawing. He just sat there for a little bit before saying anything and then answered me. “Oh, hey buddy what’s happening?”

I skipped the question. “Did you see what happened when I came home?”

“When you came home?” he asked. “Why?”

“I just need to know,” I said.

“Okay…when the car dropped you off-”

“Car?”

“Yeah. Was it Lynne’s or Alice’s or Chris’s?”

A car dropped me off. But how? It had to be them.

If I told dad he would think I’m crazy. That’s the reason I’ve told no one. They won’t believe me.

“Chris’s,” I lied.

“Oh. Was it his dad’s or his mom’s?” he asked. Why does he keep asking unnecisarry questions?

“I think it was his mom’s.”

“Okay.”

“So what happened after that?”

“After what?”

I groaned. “The car, after it dropped me off!”

“Oh that! After it dropped you off you walked over to the front door and…um…that’s all that happened.”

I stared at him. “That’s it?”

“Yeah. What else would happen? Were you expecting something?”

I tensed up a bit. “No, no.”

He just looked at me.

“I think I’m going to go do my homework,” I said pointing a thumb back at the house.

“Okay,” he said going back to his sawing.

I walked back inside and found mom still laying there. Snatching up my bookbag I walked back to my room and locked the door.

Sprawling on the bed I though about my current situation.

There has to be some way to get evidence. Then, I can show people. I’m not crazy. I can prove that to them. And to myself.

Then it came to me.

The answer, the thing that could get me evidence the thing that could show me what was happening, had been sitting on my dresser staring at me the entire time.

A/N There, that chapter is a bit longer.